* * * * *
Come, little infant, love me now.
While thine unsuspected years
Clear thine aged father's brow
From cold jealousy and fears.
Pretty, surely, 'twere to see
By young Love old Time beguil'd;
While our sportings are as free
As the muse's with the child.
* * * * *
Now then, love me; Time may take
Thee before my time away;
Of this need we'll virtue make
And learn love before we may.
So we win of doubtful fate;
And if good to us she meant,
We that good shall antedate.
Or, if ill, that ill prevent.